


we be all night (and everything alright)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Making Out, Romance, Smut, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca and Chloe have a thing…kind of. Not really. But they’ve been flirting here and there. So why did Chloe invite Chicago to her birthday party?Beca needs a drink. Maybe multiple.





	we be all night (and everything alright)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want some social media visuals, [check out my tumblr post. Also, follow me on Tumblr.](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/174777236694/multiple-anon-requests-for-3-from-the-kiss)
> 
> Title from "Drunk in Love". 
> 
> This fic was an excuse to write drunken making out and sex. You've been warned.

Beca organizes her life based on facts as best as she can. It’s so she can figure out how to make sense of the consistent organized chaos she finds herself saddled with.

Mentally, she writes: Chloe’s Birthday Extravaganza. What follows is a list of things she has to do. It’s fairly simple because she’s not hosting anything at her place specifically.

She’s not exactly sure what is expected of her, but Chloe’s insistence on visiting Los Angeles is the only thing that matters at the moment.

The first thing to note is that Beca loves Chloe a lot.

The second thing to note is that it’s Chloe’s birthday, which is a big deal.

The third little fact to make note of is that Chloe and Beca have been engaging in a flirty, long-distance, non-relationship. It’s barely a thing, Beca supposes. They’ve just upgraded from saying “hello how are you” in texts and Snaps to calling each other “babe” and writing each other compliments that go beyond friendly.

It’s not a big deal, since Chloe’s living hours away and Beca’s swamped with work on most days. Chloe only manages to send Beca bouquets of flowers whenever one of Beca’s productions does well on the radio. Beca only remembers to tell Chloe how much she misses her everyday.

Beca suggests they celebrate in Los Angeles since she now lives there, Chloe doesn’t have to travel too far and the weather is more suited to everybody’s preference. Chloe had agreed instantaneously, citing L.A.’s more impressive nightlife.

Chloe, Amy, and Aubrey are staying with Beca at her apartment.

Everybody else is staying at a hotel.

Beca hates that everybody had nodded in understanding when it was announced that Chloe would be crashing at Beca’s place.

They go to a club on Amy's suggestion. Beca has been to a club once in all her time in L.A..

(She hates dancing, but she loves Chloe and Chloe looks thrilled.)

Beca suggests that Chloe invite some of her friends from northern California, but she declines, saying that she just wants to spend time with the Bellas and their close friends. They end up compiling a joint invite list, inviting a few Trebles, and a couple of the friends they made while they were still living in New York.

There is one addition who wasn’t on Beca’s approval list.

Chloe brings Chicago Walp and holy shit, Beca immediately hates him again.

From what she remembers from the USO Tour, he and Chloe had been awfully close. It makes Beca’s blood boil. He's not awful, she supposes. Sort of good-looking, if you discount his boring and plain haircut. Chloe places her hand on his chest from time to time, a flirtatious smile playing at her lips.

Beca supposes…he's supportive of Chloe. She should like him. Maybe.

(All she sees is Choe grabbing Chicago’s tie and kissing him thoroughly and with finality just when Beca had considered doing something similar to Chloe.

Except Chloe hadn’t been wearing a tie and Beca was too late anyway.)

She justifies her spike of irrational anger by rationalizing that he really has no place putting his hand on that part – any part – of Chloe's body.

When they get to the club, braving the DTLA traffic, Beca allows Chloe to drag her straight to the bar.

“To you,” Beca says, downing her shot. “Ugh,” she groans at the burning in her throat.

Chloe nudges Beca, small smile playing at her lips. “To me, sure. But here’s to us,” she states with confidence and happiness shining her eyes.

“Us,” Beca repeats, testing out the word on her tongue. “To us,” she repeats.

Chloe kisses her on the cheek before disappearing.

 

* * *

 

(When Chloe visits, they’re not really dates, but they do go out for movies and dinner. Sometimes just dinner. Sometimes Chloe will hold her hand across the table, but only briefly like she’s afraid Beca will scare easily.

She’s not completely off the mark there.)

 

* * *

 

Beca drinks a lot quickly, hoping that nobody notices. Two tequila shots down. Maybe ten more to go.

Everyone notices. Aubrey looks disapproving. Amy looks thrilled. Chloe tilts her head in confusion.

"I'm just getting a bit more comfortable. You know I don’t like clubs," she fibs. "And, I'm bad at dancing. Whatever," she mutters at Chloe's raised eyebrow.

"It’s okay, we’re all pretty terrible at dancing,” Amy offers in reassurance.

It is decidedly not reassuring.

They have secured a solid area and booth at the club – a poorly lit, expensive building that was recommended to Beca by one of her label’s artists – her co-worker, she supposes.

Drinking isn’t necessarily all that fun for Beca. She mainly just needs something solid to hold on to because Chloe has latched onto her arm while simultaneously laughing at something Aubrey said.

Chicago chimes in with something and Chloe laughs again. It makes Beca bristle and she shifts closer to Chloe, aggressively chewing her straw as she ponders what Chloe sees in him.

She voices that to Aubrey when they find themselves alone in the corner.

“Chicago. What’s so great about him?”

Aubrey pats her on the head, cooing at her as if she’s a child. “Oh Beca. You have so much to learn.”

Beca flicks some water at her.

Beca slows down enough to pay attention to what people are saying – at least enough to hear snippets. It’s still amazing to her that a group of people so thoroughly changed her life in her first year of university that she’s still eager to hang out with them many years later. She wants to hear every story she can from Lilly; she wants to hear about Flo’s family; she wants to hear about Cynthia-Rose’s domestic lifestyle; she wants to hear about Stacie’s conquests and failures.

She wants to see Chloe’s eyes light up with love directed at all their friends. She wants to flush and falter every time Chloe directs it towards her.

She smiles every time Chloe speaks.

There's a lot of dancing interspersed throughout the night. Beca even dances a little bit (as much as she can manage without making a complete fool of herself) before sitting back at the table cradling another drink. It's something sweet and it lingers in her mouth. She figures it's safe enough: less alcohol, more sugar.

Chloe is laughing; tipsy and loud. She commands attention and Beca is only willing to give it to her. She thinks Chloe looks beautiful all the time, but she looks especially beautiful in the horrible lighting of the club, head tilted to the side and laughing. She casually runs her own hand through messy hair and Beca's gone. Beca can't take her eyes off Chloe’s face or the small bead of sweat slowly traveling down her neck, down her chest, and –

She can't help but lick her lips as her gaze narrows in on that.

She hopes to God nobody notices. She swiftly does a cursory glance around as best as she can and -

Chicago.

Beca squints suspiciously at him.

He doesn't say anything. Just smiles at her in a fashion that Beca can only describe as mischievous or knowing or something, then he smiles back down at the table, and buys everyone another round of tequila shots. Beca thinks she might have tequila running through her veins.

After that, it’s all up in the air for Beca. It's not long before they are all fairly wasted. Beca is monitoring her drinks as well as Chloe’s, ensuring that she’s at least one or two drinks behind Chloe so she can take care of her, if the need arises.

“Hey Beca, how’s it going,” Chicago states as if they’re best friends.

“Hello,” Beca replies, leaving it at that. She downs the rest of her water quickly before muttering, “bathroom.”

He chuckles and tilts his beer in her direction before turning his attention to where Chloe is showing Amy photos of a dog for some reason.

As Beca slides past them, she’s briefly struck by how nice Chloe’s perfume is. She files it away for reference because she…wants to buy it.

For herself.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Chloe tries to push Chicago and Amy out of the booth in order to get them to dance with her…and somehow Beca gets roped into helping. She’s trying to nudge them out of the booth with Chloe, but Chloe only collapses back into her, laughing. “Dance without us,” she calls lazily, tilting her head backwards so she can grin at Beca.

Beca can only laugh in reaction because her very visceral reaction to having Chloe so close to her is sheer happiness and likely, it will always be her reaction.

God. She’s going to stop drinking.

"Hey,” Chloe mumbles, resting her elbow heavily on the table. She twists to face Beca head-on, squinting at her in the darkness. “Beca,” she calls.

“Mmph.”

“We should make out.”

Beca’s head jolts up and she glances around to see if anybody else heard that. “What?” she calls back over the loud music.

“We should get out,” Chloe repeats.

“Oh. That’s…yeah. I thought you said something else.”

Beca thinks that she should have averted her eyes sooner, but she had immediately looked to Chloe’s mouth when she spoke. Now, Chloe licks her lips once, then twice and Beca’s hooked.

Making out with Chloe could be fun. Beca’s not sure – she’s never tried. Thought about it, sure. But she’s never actually done it. She could do it.

Nobody’s going to notice.

Beca’s eyes widen when she belatedly realizes she spoke her thoughts aloud. She twists because she wants to apologize to Chloe.

And that’s when Chloe kisses her.

Kissing would be a light word for what happens: Chloe’s hand slides around her waist with a surety that belies her alcohol level and she uses her lips and tongue to gently pry Beca’s lips apart.

In fact, it’s so surreal that Beca thinks that she’s dreaming – dreaming so realistically that she can feel Chloe’s hand come up to cup her cheek.

She loses herself in the fantasy of making out with Chloe in the darkened club for a moment and it takes her entirely too long to notice Chloe's lips are actually, legitimately on her own. There is a brief jolt when Chloe's tongue pushes confidently into her mouth.

Beca leans back against the booth’s cushions, breathless for a moment for reasons other than Chloe is trying to merge with her.

“Is this okay?” Chloe asks, voice somehow ringing loudly in Beca’s ears despite the music.

She is assaulted by memories of what it had been like to imagine kissing Chloe – Chloe, the girl who barged into her shower during her first semester of university; Chloe, the girl who so desperately wanted Beca to become part of the Bella family; Chloe, the girl who Beca fell in love with so slowly and naturally that it became the only thing that made sense in Beca’s world anymore.

“Yes, always,” Beca responds.

Chloe’s hands move up to thread through her hair. Beca’s hand finds its home on Chloe’s thigh, helping guide Chloe even further onto her lap. Chloe pants breathlessly into her mouth, nipping and sucking on Beca’s lips, jaw, and eventually just at the junction of her neck and ear.

Then, they’re kissing again and again until Beca loses count of how many kisses they’ve exchanged. Chloe tastes like pineapple rum. Beca tilts her head this time, experimenting as best as she can. She’s nothing, if not thorough.

Chloe seems to agree with this methodology.

They stop eventually, but it still feels far too soon. Chloe’s hand has slid up her back, scraping against skin, which notifies Beca of how high her shirt has ridden. With Chloe atop her lap at this point, she can feel how warm Chloe is and she can feel the subtle rocks of Chloe’s hips against her. Her stomach tenses, out of her control, and Chloe rocks her hips against her once more.

“Okay,” Beca says, finally after a brief silence.

Chloe’s eyes are alight with something Beca can’t quite place. The thudding in her chest no longer has anything to do with the reverberating bass, but rather the fact that she has her hands on Chloe’s waist and she doesn’t want to let go anytime soon.

“Huh,” comes an unwelcome voice from just at the edge of their booth.

It’s Chicago, who has returned with Flo and Amy and Amy’s latest boyfriend. Aubrey trails just behind them.

Everybody notices that they had just been making out, of course.

There's some cheering after a pregnant pause and another cryptic and infuriating smile from Chicago, but Beca is so far gone to even care. She’s not even jealous of Chicago anymore. Just annoyed that he’s there in general.

There’s some conversation that arises around them, but Beca’s attention lasers back on to Chloe because Chloe has gently tilted Beca’s chin back towards her and is leaning back down for another kiss.

Beca really wants to focus on their friends, but it is Chloe’s birthday and Chloe provides a compelling argument.

She also wants to kiss Chloe again.

So, she does.

Chloe's immediate response is encouraging, so Beca decides to kiss her neck. Chloe whines a little bit and Beca thinks that even if she goes down with Amy’s promised alcohol poisoning tonight, she’d be okay if she died being able to elicit more sounds out of Chloe’s mouth. Beca thinks she'd be okay dying like this, with her hands dangerously close to Chloe’s ass.

They stop again and Beca thinks they should at least try to talk.

“Talk?” she asks.

“It’s quieter outside,” Chloe suggests.

It's not until Chloe shoves her against the brick wall at the side of the club; kissing passionately and messily, nipping, sucking, and enthusiastically licking at every bit of exposed skin she can find on Beca’s neck that Beca realizes she even stood up and exited the building. Chloe’s hand makes it way up to unbutton another button on Beca’s top and moves her kisses slightly slower.

“We can talk later,” Chloe mumbles, gripping a fistful of Beca’s shirt. Beca never liked this shirt. She thinks she wouldn’t mind if Chloe ripped it right off her shoulders.

“Okay,” Beca agrees. “Happy belated birthday.”

The next few events are stilted, tilted, and unimportant.

Beca latches her mouth onto Chloe's collarbone in an Uber. Chloe’s hand glides up her inner thigh. Their Uber driver warns them against fucking up his car. Or fucking in his car. Beca’s not exactly sure.

Beca finds herself locking her apartment door clumsily, throwing her bag and Chloe’s clutch on the floor. Beca thinks she vaguely texts Amy and possibly Aubrey.

When her world rights itself again, she’s standing in her bedroom with Chloe’s mouth sucking leisurely at her ear. Chloe’s body is pressed up behind her and her hands are exploring, slowly shedding Beca of her clothes.

When she turns to look Chloe in the eyes, they’re suddenly on the bed. Beca has somehow lost her shirt and Chloe Beale is only wearing a thong. One singular thong.

“Are you sure?” she asks softly, taking pause. She leaves the bathroom light on so they’re not stumbling through darkness.

“Yes,” Chloe whimpers, tugging her down for a bruising, sure kiss. “I need you,” she whispers, licking a line straight up to Beca’s ear.

Well.

Beca can acquiesce to that.

What Beca needs, is to taste Chloe.

So she does. She tries to tease her first, wondering if she’s being considerate enough. She leaves little nips, bites, and sucks down Chloe’s chest. She fumbles with Chloe’s underwear, tugging it down clumsily and groaning when she sees how perfectly ready Chloe is for her.

She tries for build-up, she really does. She tries to be gentle and soft and sensual because her mind and heart are doing their best to make this something for Chloe to remember on her birthday of all days. Well, a few days after her actual birthday. It’s the thought that counts, Beca thinks as she glides her tongue against Chloe’s, enjoying the sensation of Chloe’s body underneath hers.

“I want you,” Chloe mumbles, breath hot against Beca’s mouth. “ _Now_.”

Beca’s a bit intoxicated, she’ll admit, so her kisses are just slightly sloppy. She moans once more, echoing Chloe’s helpless cry when she uses her fingers to swipe up through Chloe’s wetness gently. Then once more, for good measure.

She might have done it another time just so she could bring her fingers up to her mouth and marvel at the way Chloe’s eyes darkened at that specific action.

She kisses her way down, slowly enjoying her chance to marvel over Chloe’s body and its responsiveness to every single one of her actions. When she reaches Chloe’s stomach, she rakes her nails down taut skin, watching in awe as muscles jump and twitch under her touch. She sighs loudly, toes curling at the sensation of feeling how wet Chloe is just by dipping her fingers through Chloe’s folds once more.

“You - yes?” Beca asks, just to confirm once more. She glances up to see Chloe propped up on one elbow, watching her progress, other hand in her own hair. She’s nodding vigorously.

She kisses Chloe’s belly once, then her thigh, then finally buries her head where she wants to live and exist for the rest of her life. Chloe’s thighs clamp firmly on her ears and everything is muffled, warm, and so, so wet that Beca thinks she might literally be drowning.

In a repeated mantra, Beca thinks that she might be alright if she died.

Beca's never done this before but she thinks she's doing a good job. She has years of imagination and frustrating dreams to help her along, now that all the ‘knowledge’ she’s gleaned from the internet is spilling over. She thinks that she might be doing a good enough job because Chloe’s hands are verging on painful. She moans helplessly against Chloe’s thigh when Chloe’s hand claws right into the back of her head, tangling pleasurably into her hair as she pushes Beca’s face more firmly against herself.

Beca only has about three senses right now: hearing, because Chloe's making the sexiest noises she's ever heard, and sight – when she manages to open her eyes – and taste, because God she's so wet.

This burst of confidence and sexual prowess seems to come from somewhere extremely deep and primal inside Beca. She channels everything she’s been keeping pent up for the last while into pleasuring and making love to Chloe because she faintly thinks that this might be her only chance.

On the other hand, she struggles to keep Chloe’s hips down and she just wants to grant Chloe release as soon as possible. Beca tries to keep her own hips from shifting urgently against her bedspread to no avail. She moans softly into Chloe’s center, keeping her hands firmly planted on Chloe’s thighs so that she’s not thrown off completely.

“Fuck,” Beca mumbles, taking a deep breath. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she continues between latching on to Chloe’s clit with her lips, alternating between sucking and nudging at it with her tongue.

Chloe says “fuck” too. She might have screamed it, actually, but Beca’s hearing is muffled again when strong thighs clamp down around her head.

Beca’s sure she succeeds in effectively pleasuring Chloe to the best of her ability. She’s even sure that she’d be content to suffocate. Chloe’s hips are shifting restlessly and Beca moves her hand up to Chloe’s abdomen, digging her nails into the skin. She moans at Chloe’s taste, alternating between lips and tongue against Chloe’s flesh. She scrapes her hands down Chloe’s thighs and holds her legs down and open for just a few moments more, leisurely coaxing Chloe down from the heavens.

When Beca finally opens her eyes again, she’s blinking up at Chloe just as her head hits the pillow. She’s conscious of how wet  _she_  is and how wet her own face is, so she wipes hastily.

Chloe tracks the motion with dark eyes. “My turn,” is all she says. “It’s my birthday,” she adds unnecessarily.

Beca’s mind spirals when it hits her. What are they doing? She should be ensuring Chloe has a memorable birthday with their friends and the guy she’s maybe-kind-of-but-Beca-hopes-not seeing.

“Chlo,” Beca mumbles. “Chlo, God, I –“ Briefly she’s about to apologize because it’s all she can think of doing.

Chloe shushes her, thumb rubbing across Beca’s lower lip until she falls into submission. “Yes or no?” Chloe whispers, leaning down to kiss Beca’s cheek once, then twice.

Chloe looks at her with eyes that bleed desire and something else that Beca is afraid to confuse with love; Chloe, whose lips are swollen and cheeks pleasantly pink, even in the low light seeping out from Beca’s bathroom, is looking at her as if she’s the only person in the world that Chloe wants to see at that moment.

It’s fairly easy to submit to Chloe when it’s all Beca has imagined doing for the past six or so years.

Beca nods once, boldly letting her tongue dart out to taste Chloe’s thumb.

Beca sees Chloe’s throat constricting with the effort of trying to restrain a moan. Instead of making a sound, she twists her hand into Beca’s hair, effortlessly molding her body against Beca’s.

“Wait,” Beca whimpers.

Chloe’s answering and equally lustful whimper is all Beca hears before she’s opening her eyes to see Chloe hovering above her, managing to look concerned and turned on all at once.

"It's okay." Chloe pants, peppering kisses to Beca’s forehead, then cheek, and finally once more against her lips. “We – we can stop,” she mumbles, flicking her tongue out to taste Beca’s lips once more. A soft moan reverberates between the both of them and Beca doesn’t bother thinking about who moaned exactly because she’s more focused on Chloe’s fingers gently pushing their way down her abdomen.

"Do you want me to stop?" Chloe asks, breath washing over Beca’s nose and mouth. Beca can smell peppermint and alcohol. It’s strangely intoxicating, for lack of a better word.

Beca has all but sobered up at this point, but the haze still lingers. She wants this to mean something other meaningless, slightly drunken birthday sex which just happens to already be the best sex Beca (and she hopes the same for Chloe) has ever had.

Beca looks up at Chloe, unsure as to what she should do. Her brain is fried and has short-circuited essentially – it happened somewhere around the time she buried her face between Chloe’s legs.

Beca shakes her head, managing to whisper a quick "no."

Chloe grins a little and nips her way down to Beca’s breast, using her body to keep Beca’s hips down. Beca gasps, choking out Chloe’s name when she feels Chloe’s lips engulf a nipple, warm and wet tongue nudging against her flesh insistently.

Persistently.

Chloe can be persistent, Beca recalls before her mind blacks out.

When she gains control of her senses again, Beca briefly considers that it’s possible she hasn’t been thoroughly fucked in a while because the moment Chloe slides two fingers between her legs to gently rub at her center, she feels familiar, instant gush of wetness and a tell-tale tremble in her thighs. Chloe moves her head back up so Beca can see her shit-eating grin.

"God," Beca whispers.

Chloe’s smile is downright sinful and she captures Beca’s lips in a breath-stealing kiss before she mutters "Chloe is fine.”

Beca should hate her for such a contrived, cheesy line, but all she feels is a dull throbbing on her nipple where Chloe’s mouth just was and an even more telling, overwhelming ache between her legs. The ache slowly makes its way up somewhere into her belly and she groans, long and low when Chloe’s fingers finally find their home inside her.

Beca’s neck strains upwards and Chloe takes it as an invitation. She latches her lips against Beca’s skin immediately, kissing and sucking. Her fingers are relentless.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-_

“Fuck!” Beca exclaims, hand coming up to hold the back of Chloe’s neck.

“Happy birthday to me,” Chloe mumbles, moving her lips back to Beca’s mouth. “Come for me, Bec,” she whispers just before shoving her tongue into Beca’s mouth.

Beca explodes.

She doesn’t see fireworks or anything soft like that.

Instead, she sees a fucking galaxy of stars, nebulas, and supernovas behind her eyelids. Chloe’s lips coax her down from her high and she’s breathlessly whimpering even as she comes back into her own body.

Chloe holds her close and kisses her neck. "You're beautiful, Beca,” Chloe whispers with reverence. “Thank you.”

It’s a sobering moment, amidst the entire sequence of events leading up to this moment. Beca traces the contour of Chloe’s cheek and rests her palm against impossibly soft skin. Hazily, she tries to memorize the exact shade of blue Chloe’s eyes are. With that in mind, she sinks into something almost dreamless.

Chloe’s heartbeat lulls her to sleep. She thinks she hears Chloe say something else, but it’s lost in the haze.

 

* * *

 

When Beca wakes up, she panics because her body hurts so much that she actually thinks she was hit by a truck.  Then, she remembers enough to explain why she's naked in her bed with Chloe’s arm lazily thrown across her waist.

There’s a brief moment where her panic devolves into sheer fright. She thinks that she can’t risk waking Chloe up because that would mean having to talk about how Beca had her head between her legs for a solid two orgasms at least. It would mean having to talk, after that.

She somehow manages to extricate herself from Chloe’s grasp and moves around, throwing her dirty clothes into her hamper.

While throwing her clothes in the hamper, she cries a little bit.

She showers, finally, resting her forehead against the cool shower tile and curls up next to Chloe, hoping there will be no questions.

As part of Beca’s plan for Chloe’s birthday, she offers to treat everybody for brunch.

Chloe’s birthday is now going to become just a thing that kind of happened and Beca tries not to think about it too much.

It does prove difficult when all she can think about is how Chloe moaned right into her mouth when she twisted her wrist just like-

Well. It just sort of happened.

And they haven’t talked about it.

Granted, Chloe had rolled right out of bed and into Beca’s shower like nothing had changed between them.

What does change, however, is tender, affectionate look Chloe throws her when they’re in the Uber on the way to the restaurant. What does change, is how Chloe’s hand lingers on her back when she lets Beca walk into the restaurant first.

What does change is that Chloe greets Chicago with a smile and a platonic little kiss on the cheek and then moves to sit next to Beca.

She wants to ask Chloe if they should talk about it, but her words dry up in her throat.

Beca knows that Chloe remembers everything as vividly as she does.

It should be awkward and Beca supposes to a degree it is.

(It’s mainly awkward because Beca wants to, well, have sex with Chloe. Again.

Repeatedly, preferably.)

Beca feels her resolve crumbling. She had been so sure Chloe was interested in Chicago and that they were even dating or something. And she fucked it up by sleeping with Chloe because she had been too drunk to think straight. Literally.

She wants to turn to Chloe and ask if they’re friends because Chloe’s hand keeps finding its way onto her thigh or shoulder and Beca wants to reciprocate, but she ends up staring sullenly at her plate.

It straddles the line of what’s appropriate for friends to do and it’s evident all throughout breakfast.

“Beca, what the hell happened last night?” Amy asks her when they both end up in the washroom at the same time.

“What are you talking about? I just went home early,” Beca says evasively. She doesn’t make eye contact because she’s a terribly liar and Amy’s good at sniffing out bullshit – Beca’s bullshit specifically.

“This text is really interesting.”

“I texted you?”

Amy reads it aloud. “Don’t come home. Gonna smash. Sorry.”

Beca absolutely doesn’t recall typing that out, let alone sending it.

“You and Ginger, huh?”

“I…” Beca spins on her heel, not bothering to dry her hands.

“Hey,” Chloe greets when she returns to the table. She gently curls her hand over Beca’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. Beca stiffens again and resists the urge to cry. She thinks she sees Chloe’s pout out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, somebody breaks when Beca gets up to pay for the bill.

Chicago approaches, grinning like he's one of Beca's best friends. She gets a mild sense of déjà-vu.

"Can we talk for a sec?" he asks, using a tone that makes Beca feel both 10-inches tall and 10-years old.

He doesn't really give her a chance to respond, instead, tilts his head in the direction of the hallway leading towards the kitchen. Against her better judgement, Beca follows him and tries to recall what it felt like to punch a man.

"Since _you’re_ not going to talk about it,” Chicago starts. “We all know you and Chloe hooked up after the club. Are you going to…do something about that?"

It hits her like a brick wall. It's the last thing she expected from him and he knows it. She knows she's wide eyed. She knows she's been caught off guard, running through a million different dialogue options.

She settles on her bright and charming personality; she glowers, before muttering "I don't know what you're talking about.” She pauses. “I thought you two were…a thing, or whatever.” She stops short at apologizing.

He rolls his eyes. "No. We’re friends,” he states, as if he’s testing the word out for the first time. Sighing, he continues, “I know you don't like me. And I'm pretty sure I know why. Forget that, though. I'm trying to help you out."

"How could you possibly help me out? And why would you help me out? That is…if you could help me out at all," she rambles. She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow as best as she can.

"You hate me because you know I was interested in Chloe. I _am_ interested,” he corrects flippantly. “If you thought that, you’d be correct."

It’s the strangest intimidation tactic Beca has ever been privy to. She clenches her fist. “Okay? What’s the point here?”

He holds his hand up. "But, it was evident early on that I didn't have a chance with her. At first, she was all 'I miss the Bellas so much’ all the time,” he points out, which is irritating in itself because Beca doesn’t see anything wrong with that. Chloe has always latched onto her love and passion for the Bellas, throwing herself into it like it’s the only thing she knows. It made Beca want to bottle some of the excess love that spills over inevitably because Chloe’s vibrance makes her own world better.

“So?” Beca asks, voicing her thoughts.

“Well,” Chicago continues, arching an eyebrow. “I mean, she started talking about you, which I guess was fine because you two are best friends.” He crosses his arms, staring down at her. It’s not intimidating, but Beca feels a different kind of fear spike in her. “But obviously, I can tell that there's so much more between the two of you. I…guess, I just thought she’d get over you eventually." He smiles a little ruefully. "But it’s been a year of talking to her and she will forever think that you are the most amazing and the most talented person in the world. I can’t compete with her being in love with you,” he states. “Because she is. In love with you,” he clarifies, taking in Beca's expression.

It’s the most prolonged interaction they’ve had…ever.

Somehow, Beca thinks that this might be the last.

But - what? Beca fixates on what Chicago just dropped on her, letting everything kind of click into place.

 

* * *

 

 

(As they drift off to sleep, Chloe’s hand gently combs through the snarls and tangles in Beca’s hair.

“I love you,” Chloe whispers.

Beca falls asleep with a smile.)

 

* * *

 

 

“Anyway. After the whole USO thing, I realized that no amount of waiting was going to make her want me in the way she wants you. I also have two eyes, Beca,” he drawls. “I see the way you look at her. You know at her birthday? When I saw how you two look at each other? I knew I didn't have a shot _at all_. We can both agree that Chloe deserves the world and then some. So, you better get your head out of your ass, Beca.” He looks mildly uncomfortable at that last statement. “Sorry, Aubrey told me to say that last bit.”

Beca doesn't answer Chicago. She doesn't really give any indication that she's heard what he said, having tuned out because she received a text.

 **Chloe (12:56 pm)  
** _look up, babe_

She does.

Chloe Beale is staring straight at her. She waves hesitantly. When Beca smiles in return, Chloe’s face lights up like no other.

It's all Beca needs.

Before she has time to think about what she's doing; before she has time to second guess herself, she's walking back over to Chloe; back to sitting next to Chloe and enjoying the first day of the rest of their lives together.

“Hey,” Beca says, making a mental note to thank all their friends. Despite all the arrangements Beca had set up for this weekend, none of it compares to how much their friends subtly invested into forcibly pushing her and Chloe together. “Should we talk?”

“Hi,” Chloe responds. She sips at her tea, looking at Beca curiously. “I’m here,” she states.

Beca contemplates what she could say. A million conversations run through her mind.

Instead, what she chooses to focus on is Chloe’s hand on her thigh and the soft affection in Chloe’s eyes.

“I love you,” Beca whispers.

Chloe’s eyes light up and amidst a table full of food and surrounded by their friends, they share a sweet kiss.

Beca thinks Chloe tastes like the best hangover remedy she’s ever had.

They might not have that much to talk about after all.


End file.
